Secrets Of The Night. Katherine Garbera
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skip it now.”
He leaned back against the wall of the car and stared at her with that bright blue gaze of his. “Don’t be offended. I can’t take any chances.”
“Why not?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “When I was nineteen and just starting to take over the reins at Macafee International, Business Week sent a reporter to interview me. He was about my age and easy to relate to. He spent a week or so following me around at the office and I let my guard down and talked openly with him. He printed things that weren’t part of the interview itself and I learned the hard way that there is no such thing as off the record.”
She was angry with the reporter who had abused Conner’s trust and a little sad for the young man he’d been at that time. “I’m not like that.”
“You say that, but then you also told me you’d do anything to get this story. And then I show up at my sister’s house and there you are … it doesn’t look good,” he said.
“She invited me,” Nichole said carefully, enunciating her words, though the anger she’d felt earlier about his attitude had disappeared. She had caught a glimpse of the private side of Conner and she wasn’t about to let that slip away. He was a man with a lot of complicated emotions. Tonight had proven that. And though he was arrogant and demanding, she was beginning to suspect that was all a ruse he used to keep from being hurt again.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.
“Because I’m just getting the feeling that I’ve barely scraped the tip of the iceberg that is Conner Macafee.”
“Iceberg? I thought I’d proven I was anything but cool as far as you were concerned.”
“Oh, you’re red hot when I’m in your arms, but you seem so forceful and solid underneath that it’d be easy to accept you as just a man who wanted a mistress. But then the water moves and I see something hidden in the depths of you …”
“That’s pretty deep. I’m really not all that. I’m just a guy who likes to get his way and right now my way would be you in my bed.”
“If only that were all you were asking,” she said.
“Would you have a one-night stand with me?” he asked.
That point-blank delivery struck her the same way his initial demand that she be his mistress had—with a thrill she couldn’t deny, at least to herself, and then a bit of sadness because she genuinely liked him and wanted so much more than just one night.
“Would you sit down to an interview with me?” she asked.
He shook his head. “You haven’t changed my mind.”
“Are you sure?”
The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into the lobby of the building. There weren’t many people there and Conner took her arm and drew her to a quiet corner.
“Actually, I’m not sure. Tonight when you were talking about secrets … I want to ask you about your childhood. Would you be willing to open up to me about it?”
“Maybe,” she said. She didn’t like talking about her own secrets. It made her mad at herself that she still couldn’t break the habits that were ingrained in her since childhood.
“What if I gave you a kiss?” he asked.
She had to smile at him. “You can be a scamp, you know that?”
“Yes,” he said. “If sheer willpower won’t convince you to give me what I want, I’m not afraid to use charm.”
“Is this still a game?” she asked, because she needed to know before she let herself fall any deeper for him.
He pulled her closer to him, wrapping one arm around her waist and leaning in so that his breath brushed her cheek when he exhaled. He smelled the way she remembered him, spicy and delicious, and she wanted to rest her head against his chest and just let him wrap her senses in comfort.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted.
With another guy that wouldn’t be enough of an answer, but with Conner it was more than she expected. He was so guarded. So used to protecting himself and keeping everyone at arm’s length that she felt even that tiny admission was a treasure.
“I’m not, either,” she said, looking up at him.
“How are you getting home?” he asked.
“A cab, why?”
“I have my driver waiting. Can we give you a lift?” he asked.
“Why would you offer?” she asked.
“I’m not ready to say good night yet.”
“Why not?” she asked.
“You sound so suspicious,” he said with a laugh. Pulling out his cell phone, he typed a quick message.
“Well, with you I’ve learned to be.”
“Don’t be,” he said, cupping his hand under her elbow and leading her to the exit. “I just want a chance at uncovering your secrets.”
Conner was happy that Nichole had accepted the offer of a ride from him because he wasn’t ready for the evening to end. Randall said nothing as Conner gave him Nichole’s address; the driver just piloted the car through the evening Manhattan traffic.
Nichole sat back against the leather seats of the Rolls Royce Phantom. Conner stretched his arm out along the back of the seat and toyed with a strand of her hair, wrapping the silky lock around his finger and then letting it unravel.
“You’re making my life difficult,” she said at last, turning toward him.
“I know,” he said. If he’d let go of his convictions and say yes to having an affair with her, life would be easier, but he didn’t know for how long. He suspected it would only last until he got her into his bed and then he’d be back to the same distrust he had now.
“What kind of secrets did your family hide?” he asked. He wasn’t going to play around and pretend that he didn’t want to know about her past. Knowing the person she was might make it easier for him to trust her. But it would also make it easier for him to figure out what kind of pressure to apply to make her cave in to his desires.
“You still want to know about that?” she asked.
“Stop stalling. You know I want to know every detail about you. And I tried researching you on the internet the other day and couldn’t find anything but your column and the articles you’d written.”
“You researched me?”
“My attorney advised me to,” he said, deadpan.
She narrowed her gaze on him and then started laughing. “Dated a few crazies?”
“No, I was joking with you. I wanted to know more about you. Find out what made the woman behind the reporter tick.”
She shifted around in the seat, turning so she faced him. “There isn’t much to tell. My family’s secret isn’t too bad or too dark. It was more damaging the way we dealt with it.”
The way she downplayed it told him that wasn’t true. “What was it?”
“Depression. Severe depression that makes the person feel like they should kill themselves,” she said.
“Which family member?” he asked, not liking the sound of her secret.
“My mom. She has medicine she can take to control it, but it makes her sort of a vegetable so she hates it. My childhood was a roller-coaster ride and we could never discuss Mom’s periods of blueness. That’s what she called it.”
“What about your dad? Surely, he said something to you,” Conner said.
“Not